


No Kissing

by CJ_Jacobs



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, bechloe moms, domestic bechloe, married bechloe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJ_Jacobs/pseuds/CJ_Jacobs
Summary: It's hard to make out with your wife when your 3-year-old just wants you to pay attention and watch the movie.





	No Kissing

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr months ago, but earlier this week I almost accidentally deleted it while using the mass post editor, so I thought I'd put it here as well to be on the safe side. Warning for extreme, possibly sickening levels of fluff and domestic bliss.

Locking up her studio for the night, Beca pockets the key and heads across the back yard to the house.  She comes in through the kitchen, finding it empty and silent this late in the evening.  Checking the clock, she feels a slight twinge of guilt when she sees it’s past eight.  Usually, despite the temptation of her equipment just a few steps away on the same property, she doesn’t allow herself to go back to work after dinner.  (Or rather, Chloe doesn’t allow her to go back to work after dinner.)  But with so many deadlines looming this week she’s had to make some exceptions.

She crosses the back hallway and peeks into the family room.  Chloe is nowhere in evidence, but their daughter, Violet, is sitting on the plush area rug in the middle of the room, clutching her favorite blanket, staring at the TV and absorbed in what looks like a car insurance commercial featuring a talking monkey.  

Beca steps quietly through the doorway and sneaks up closer, then crouches down a few feet behind her, still unnoticed.  “Boo,” she says, but in a soft voice so as not to actually scare her.

Violet spins around, her face lighting up in surprise and an almost delirious joy.  “Mama!”  In one continuous motion she pulls herself up from the floor and throws herself at Beca, with as much passion as if days have passed since they’ve seen each other, instead of just hours.

Beca is knocked backwards off of her heels and onto her ass by the force of the impact.  “Oh my God,” she laughs.  

Violet hangs onto her through the stumble, her arms wrapped tightly around Beca’s neck.  Beca pulls her close, squeezing her tiny body hard against her as she shuts her eyes, inhaling her scent.  Her loose light red curls smell like baby shampoo and are still slightly damp from her bath, and she’s wearing soft cotton pajamas printed with moons and stars.

“Mmm, thank you,” Beca mumbles with real gratitude into her daughter’s small, warm shoulder.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out, impressed as always by the sheer restorative power of a toddler’s hug.  “I needed that.”

Violet finally detaches herself and pulls back, examining her face.  With Beca sitting on the floor, they’re about the same height.

“Did you finish?” Violet asks her solemnly.

“Finish what?”

“The layering.”

Beca looks at her in amazement.  Vocal layering is exactly what she’s been doing for the past twelve hours, with brief breaks for meals.  But how could her not-quite-yet three year old daughter know that?  It’s true, yesterday she and Cynthia-Rose had been discussing their options for a particular track while Violet scribbled in a coloring book on the floor of the studio, but she’d been singing quietly to herself and seemingly not paying any attention.  

“We  _did_  finish.  Were you listening when we were talking about that yesterday?” Beca asks her.

Violet nods.

“Wow.  I keep forgetting you’re, like, a little  _person_  now.”  It also makes her realize she’s going to have to start being more careful about the stuff that comes out of her mouth.  She knew this day would come eventually, but she’s not sure she’s ready for it.  “So,” she changes the subject.  “I hear we’re watching a movie tonight.”

“Yep,” Violet confirms with excitement.  “But only when Mommy comes down.  She’s putting on her…” She struggles to remember the exact words, squinting and twisting her mouth in a way that’s so precisely like Chloe that it’s disorienting.  “Comfy clothes,” she adds with a little nod, pleased with herself.

“Ugh, we have to wait for  _her_?”  Beca makes a face.  “I say we just watch it without her.”

At this notion, Violet’s dark blue eyes widen in alarm.  Those eyes, along with her pale complexion, are her only notable physical legacies from Beca–or technically from Beca’s brother, which amounts to nearly the same thing, since they’re so similar in both looks and personality that they were often mistaken for twins as children, even though Chris is a year older.

“I don’t want to,” she pouts.

Beca grins at her.  “I’m just  _kidding_.  You gotta learn to read the room, kid.  So, what are we gonna watch?”

Fetching her chosen DVD from the nearby coffee table, Violet holds it up proudly.  “This one.”

“Ohhh,” Beca groans.  “Big Bird again, huh?”  Violet’s choice, as usual, is an obnoxious Sesame Street movie from the eighties, in which Big Bird is removed from his home by a social worker played by a lady in a giant finch costume… or something.  Beca’s never quite figured out the nonsense plot, despite the fact that she’s been forced to sit through it hundreds of times.  Or maybe not hundreds, but it feels that way.  Why can’t their child just watch Pixar like every other kid in America?

“It’s Aunt Aubrey’s movie,” Violet points out earnestly, as if reading her thoughts.  “From when she was little.”

“That’s right, Aunt Aubrey gave you that, didn’t she?  That was so  _generous_  of her.  She deserves a big thank-you for that,” Beca says wryly.  “Like, maybe some thank-you waterboarding.”

“Yep.  Cuz it was so nice,” Violet agrees, not batting an eye at the waterboarding mention.  From Chloe, she’s inherited a remarkable resistance to other people’s sarcasm.  This is a trait that comes in handy when dealing with Beca.

“So nice,” Beca echoes.  “But are you sure you don’t want to watch something else, just for a change?  Like, literally,  _anything_  else?” she pleads.

“Nope,” Violet says firmly.  “Big Bird.”

Beca knows it’s hopeless, but there’s time to kill before Chloe comes down, because somehow even changing into pajamas takes her forever, so she pulls her jacket off and kicks off her shoes, then crawls over and begins to shuffle through the DVDs in the storage bin that pulls out from the coffee table.  “Let’s see what else those freaks have left here over the years.  How about… a Monster Truck Rally?  Pretty sure that was Amy’s.  Want to watch big trucks crush things?” Beca teases her, tickling her at the same time.  “Hmm?”  

“No,” Violet wriggles away, smiling.

“No?  Something more sophisticated?”  Beca tries again.  “Dead Poets Society, maybe.”

“Mm-mm.”

“You are one tough customer.  Moulin Rouge?”

She shakes her head vigorously.

“Casablanca?”

“I don’t know what that  _is_ ,” Violet says with strained patience.

“Yeah, me neither,” Beca admits.  “Um… Great Performances: Collegiate Acapella Edition?”

“No!”

“Jeez,  _okay_ ,” Beca holds up her hands in defense.  “Actually, I’m with you on that one. How about… Silence of the Lambs?”

Violet seems intrigued by the mention of lambs.  She thinks about it, studying the DVD she’s still holding, weighing her loyalty to Big Bird.  But, finally, “No,” she decides.

“Thank God,” Beca says.  “Did not have a backup plan for that one.”

Even though she can’t possibly understand this joke, Violet finds it funny anyway.  The two of them are still laughing when Beca suddenly looks up and realizes Chloe is standing in the doorway, watching them with a half-smile.  She has the strangest look on her face, soft and wistful but somehow faraway, like she’s trying to remember something.  Beca gets the distinct impression she’s been standing there for a while.

“Hey, weirdo.  You spying on us?”

“Mommy, look!” Violet holds up the DVD to show her.

Coming out of her semi-trance, Chloe snaps right into mom mode.  “Oh my gosh, are we watching Big Bird?” she gushes, as if this is the most exciting news she’s heard all day.  Beca admires this skill, even if she still hasn’t mastered it herself.  “You want me to put it in?” Chloe asks, coming further into the room and picking up the remote control.

But Violet protests this immediately; she wants to do it herself.  “No, me!”  She stretches her arms up for the remote.  “I’ll do it.”

“You want to do it?  Go for it,”  Chloe gives her the remote and watches as she scampers across the room to the DVD player.  “Let me know if you need help.” 

“I could use some,” Beca says, holding out her hands.  

“Hey, you.”  Chloe smiles and helps pull her up from the floor, giving her a quick hello peck as she does.  “Did you get done?”

“Yeah, for the most part.  She’s still not totally happy with it, but what else is new.”

“She’ll love it when it’s all finished,” Chloe assures her, a hand on Beca’s lower back as they move over to the couch.  “She always does.”

They sit down, Chloe still monitoring the progress with the movie.  So far, Violet seems to know what she’s doing, although she’s progressing slowly, handling the disc with a careful reverence.

“It would be such a shame if anything ever happened to that movie,” Beca remarks casually.

“Don’t you  _dare_ ,” Chloe warns her, trying not to laugh.

“Hey.”  Beca waits until Chloe looks over at her.  “So, what was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“A minute ago, when you were standing there,” she looks toward the doorway.  “You had this look on your face, like…” she trails off.  “I don’t know, it was weird.  I mean, weirder than usual.”

Chloe smiles.  But she doesn’t answer right away, and she seems to be considering what she wants to say.  “It’ll sound crazy.”

Now Beca’s intrigued.  “When has that ever stopped you?”

But Chloe’s focus is suddenly diverted by the fact that Violet has succeeded in starting the movie.  “Look at you!” she praises her.  “You did it all by yourself!”

Glowing with confidence, Violet adjusts the volume to her preferred too-loud level, then, apparently feeling herself the mistress of ceremonies, she crosses the room and dims the lights to their usual soft movie-watching glow, straining upward to reach the switch, which she just barely manages with the tips of her fingers.

“Nice job,” Beca comments.  “Now can you go make us some popcorn?”

“No!” Violet retorts, returning to the rug and plopping herself down on the floor to watch the movie.

“Thought it was worth a shot,” Beca says.  She turns her attention back to Chloe, lowering her voice so as not to distract their daughter.  “Well?  Still waiting, here.”

Again, Chloe’s quiet for a second.  When she finally speaks, her question isn’t what Beca was expecting at all.  “Do you remember the day we saw this house for the first time?”

Confused, Beca searches her memory.  “Yeah, I guess.  I remember you wouldn’t even tell me why we were in Topanga, until we were here.”

“I didn’t know if you’d come with me, otherwise.  We weren’t even together then.  Or at least… not officially.”

“Yeah.  I  _do_  recall that part,” Beca says, looking away, her expression a bit guilty.  Those days are far from her proudest memories.  “God, it felt like the tour lasted forever,” she adds dryly.  “That real estate agent hated me, dude.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, amused.  “She didn’t hate you.  But you weren’t exactly on your best behavior,” she chides her.

“I tried,” Beca insists, not very convincingly.  “What do you expect from me when someone uses the word  _nook_  in an un-ironic way?  I only have one setting when it comes to that stuff.”

Chloe shakes her head a little, but her affection for even Beca’s worst qualities is clear to see.  “ _Anyway_.  When she was showing us the first floor, and we were leaving this room?  I remember I stopped and looked back for a second, and… okay, this is the crazy part.  It’s like I could see this.  And I forgot about it, until just now.  When I was coming in, and you guys were sitting on the floor like that?  It just came back to me, all of a sudden.  I remembered standing there, that day, and imagining,” she pauses.  “What it could be like.  If we were a couple.  And this was our house.  It was like, I could see it so clearly.  When I finally came back to reality, I remember you were looking at me like I’d gone off the deep end.”

“I was?” Beca winces a little.  She doesn’t have a clear memory of any of this, but the fact that she was being an ass doesn’t surprise her at all.  “Sorry.”

“No, I don’t blame you.  It must have looked strange.  But it’s like,” Chloe gazes around the room again now, “this is just what I was picturing, in my head.  How it would be.  How this room would look, if we lived here.  And you, and  _her_ ,” she gestures at their daughter.  “Just, all of us.  All of  _this_.  That’s what I wanted.  It’s all I ever wanted.  Sometimes I still can’t believe– “ she breaks off, her voice suddenly catching.  Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, but as if she knows she’s being silly, she bites her bottom lip and laughs at herself a little, her expression suddenly flashing into a brilliant smile.

As is usually the case for her, Beca’s surprised by her own reaction, at how she unexpectedly feels everything inside her light up.  It’s the combination of the emotion and the smile that gets her every time, how Chloe can veer from one to the other within seconds, even mixing them together in unanticipated ways.  She tries to think of something to say, but then decides against it.  Words are never her strong suit, especially in moments like this.  

Instead, she shifts closer to her on the couch and, cupping Chloe’s face gently in her hands, draws her forward into a soft, lingering kiss.  Surprised by the gesture, Chloe becomes completely still, closing her eyes and melting into it, as if she’s trying to slow down time to make it last longer.  

“Don’t kiss!”  

They’re startled by the exasperated voice coming from just a few feet away.  Pulling apart, they find Violet standing in front of the couch, gazing at them in stern warning, hands on her tiny hips in a miniature approximation of the way Chloe used to look during a frustrating Bellas rehearsal.

Chloe gasps in exaggerated astonishment.  “Why can’t we kiss?”

“Because.  Now you  _missed it_.”

“Oh no, did we miss the beginning?”

Beca says quickly, “That’s okay.”  But Violet has already moved back toward the TV, brandishing the remote control like a weapon.  “No, babe, it’s fine, you don’t have to–” she attempts.  Then she sighs.  “Yeah, she’s gonna start it over.”  She looks at Chloe, mouthing the words, “ _Damn it_.”

Violet walks herself through the remote control buttons out loud.  “Push this one.  Then…  _this_  one.”  The fact that she hasn’t fully mastered her th-sounds yet means that it sounds more like “Den dis one.”  Even Beca is powerless to withstand the force of this cuteness.  

“Thank you, sweetie,” Chloe calls to her, after she succeeds in starting the movie again from the very beginning.  “That was so nice of you.”

She comes back toward them, repeating with emphasis, “ _Don’t.  Kiss.”_ As if to offer them something in return for their obedience, she says, “You can kiss at the boring part.”

“At the boring part?” Beca says.  “Do  _we_  get to decide when that is, or– ?”

“No,” Violet says.  “I’ll tell you.”

“Oh.  Okay,” Beca smiles.  “We’ll just wait, then.”

“We’ll be good, we promise,” Chloe tells her.

Violet seems skeptical, but she nevertheless settles herself onto her stomach in the middle of the rug, her favorite spot for watching TV, and turns her attention back to the screen.  They wait a few seconds until she seems to be fully absorbed in the movie.

“She’s so bossy,” Chloe whispers with something like pride.

“Yeah.  Wonder where she gets  _that_  from?”  

Chloe raises one hand to her chest in cartoonish innocence.  “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”  Then she transitions to pure ingenue, batting her eyelashes.

Grinning slyly, Beca nudges her leg with her foot.  Chloe nudges her back with her bare toes, suppressing a giggle.  Beca retaliates by sliding her foot slowly up Chloe’s calf, underneath her sweat pants.  Despite the fact that this is basic teen level flirtation, they’re now in full-on eye sex mode.  After another few minutes of this discreet PG-level canoodling, something causes Chloe’s attention to flit back to their daughter, and she freezes as a comically guilty expression crosses her features.  “Oh, no,” she laughs under her breath.  

Beca follows her gaze to see that Violet has pivoted around and is facing them, watching them with suspicion.

Chloe protests, “We didn’t do anything!”

“You were gonna kiss  _again_.”

“You can’t prove that,” Beca argues.

Violet only stares at her, sulking.  She is not here for this bullshit.

Now Beca begs, “Please don’t start the movie again.”

To distract her, Chloe offers, “You want to come over here and sit with us?  So you can keep an eye on us better?”

She considers, then agrees. “Kay.”  Pulling herself up from the floor, she comes to them, and they each grasp one of her hands and hoist her up onto the sofa.  She nestles down in between them.  Pleased with her new position, she crows, “Now you  _can’t_  kiss anymore.”

Chloe seems to take this as a challenge.  “You better watch it, missy, or we’re gonna kiss you instead.”

“Uh-uh,” Violet shakes her head, already smiling.  “Not me.”  But it’s too late, and she’s soon convulsed in squealing, writhing laughter as they come at her from both sides, pinning her between them and covering her cheeks and both sides of her head with loud, theatrical smooches, with some tickling thrown in for good measure.  

After she survives this coordinated maternal attack, Violet takes a few seconds to recover, sprawled against the couch cushions and breathing hard.  Her face is pink and her eyes are shining with mirth, the occasional drunk-sounding chuckle still bubbling out of her.

“You didn’t pee yourself, did you?” Beca asks her.

Chloe’s mouth drops open in pretended offense on Violet’s behalf.  “ _Beca_.  She’s a big girl.”

“I’m a big girl!” Violet repeats indignantly to Beca.

“My mistake,” Beca says.

“But…” Violet reflects, always honest.  “I maybe peed a  _little_.”

Chloe smiles, reassuring her, “That’s okay, baby, that one was our fault.”  She straightens and smooths Violet’s pajama top, which has gotten twisted in all her squirming.  “You ready to watch the movie for real now?”

“Yes!” she agrees, turning her attention back to the screen.  But it’s clear as she rubs her eyes hard that a shift has taken place, and she’s heading into the sleepy zone.  Right on cue, she snuggles into Chloe’s side and her thumb goes into her mouth.  Beca may get the excited welcomes, but Chloe is the one she gravitates toward when she’s tired or just needs comforting.  Not hard to see why.

After another few minutes, Violet slides down even further, her head now in Chloe’s lap, her feet draped over Beca’s legs.  Watching her, Beca tries to gauge by her breathing just how close to sleep she is.  The more drowsy she gets, the younger she seems, and in the dim light, with Chloe stroking her hair back from her face and her eyelids getting heavy, she now strongly resembles the infant she was only, what, last week?  That’s what it feels like, anyway.  If they’re lucky, maybe she’ll pass out before the movie is halfway over and they can put something else on.  But another part of Beca, the greedy mom part, wants Violet to stay awake longer, especially after seeing so little of her today.

She glances up at Chloe and notices that she, too, is watching Violet, gazing down at her with a soft, rapt expression of wonder.  Looking at them both, Beca only now feels the full meaning of what Chloe was talking about, before.  As she takes in the vision of the two of them against the full sweep of the background–the room, the house, everything they have together–she thinks about what Chloe must have been seeing when she looked into this empty room years ago.  She thinks about how close she herself came, through her own stubbornness and denial, to rendering those images into an unfulfilled prophecy, a mirage that would have vanished like smoke.  How close she came to losing it all.

But she didn’t.  By some miracle that she still doesn’t fully understand, she didn’t.  It’s all real, and solid, and tangible.  Like Chloe almost said earlier before she stopped herself, the words as clear to Beca as if she’d spoken them out loud,  _it actually happened._   This is their real life.

She only realizes how long she’s been staring at her when Chloe glances over and catches her.  Awkwardly, Beca looks away, then gives it up and looks back, flashing her a sheepish smirk.  She can tell by the look on Chloe’s face that she hasn’t managed to hide anything at all.  By this point, Chloe knows how to read her emotions maybe better than she does herself.  

So she gives in to the moment and lets her guard down, something she’s still no expert at but which she’s managing with more frequency as the years go by.  Staring into Chloe’s eyes, she silently mouths the words  _I love you_.

This time it’s Chloe who leans in toward her–carefully, trying not to catch Violet’s notice.  Beca meets her halfway.  Their lips join and mold together with the kind of perfectly choreographed and precise intimacy that can only develop between people who have kissed each other thousands of times before.  And yet somehow, even with their sixth wedding anniversary approaching soon, it still hasn’t gotten old.  Despite what the world has always conditioned them to believe, they’re both starting to suspect that maybe it never will.  Not for them.

Chloe breaks the kiss so gently that the transition is hardly noticed, her forehead pressed against Beca’s.  “I love you too,” she whispers against her lips, not making any sound.  

Nevertheless, despite their best efforts, they detect a subtle shift in Violet’s position, and they look down to find that they’ve been caught, for the third time.

She’s pulled her thumb out of her mouth and is gazing at them with indecision, so tired that she doesn’t know whether it’s worth it to protest.  

Then Chloe winks at her, including her in their secret, rather than leaving her on the outside of it.  This is all it takes, because, like Chloe herself, Violet’s moods can shift from one extreme to the other within seconds.  Like sun breaking through clouds, her eyes crinkle and she flashes them a complicit smile, forgiving them for their lapse.  Then she pops her thumb back into her mouth and rotates her head toward the glow of the TV, her eyelids almost immediately beginning to grow heavy again.

Now, Beca shifts herself closer to Chloe, smoothly transferring more of Violet’s lower body onto her own legs, moving near enough to allow Chloe the option to lean against her, an option she quickly perceives and takes.  As Chloe settles into her Beca presses her lips to her head for just a minute, lingering there, breathing her in.  She takes a deep, slow breath and lets it out, relaxing into the soft warmth of Chloe’s body, turning her eyes back to the TV and the inescapable Big Bird.  Maybe in a minute, she thinks, she’ll get up and make them some popcorn herself.  But not just yet.

For right now, she just wants to sit here, with her wife’s head nestled on her shoulder and their baby dozing off on their laps. 


End file.
